


Improvisando

by Verbyna



Category: Hockeysona, Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Europe, Family, Friends to Lovers, Hockey, Identity Issues, M/M, Male Friendship, Polyamorous Character, University, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verbyna/pseuds/Verbyna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cursey looks at Kit and thinks, for the hundredth time, <i>I want to kiss him.</i> He doesn’t; he needs friends, not a boyfriend. But in this light, between these trees, in the silence and so far from campus, it’s harder to remember that than it should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improvisando

**Author's Note:**

> i am in hockeysona hell, but at least y'all are with me.
> 
> (this can be read as an original story about college hockey players at a fictional university, but if you want background on the characters, here are some handy links: [cursey](http://hockeysona.wikia.com/wiki/Cursey), [kit-kat](http://hockeysona.wikia.com/wiki/Kit-Kat), [roonie](http://hockeysona.wikia.com/wiki/Roonie), [rinser](http://hockeysona.wikia.com/wiki/Rinser), [jb](http://hockeysona.wikia.com/wiki/Jelly_Bean).)

“I’m transferring to Wankston,” Cursey tells Roonie on the last week of freshman year. The Kings just advanced to the Cup finals; they watched them beat the Coyotes to win the semifinals earlier, and now it’s midnight and they’re sitting on Roonie’s bed, wired. Truth be told, Cursey’s been wired for weeks.

“Is it because of your dad? Is he still giving you grief over the legacy thing?”

Cursey shakes his head, looking at the Hawks poster above his own bed instead of meeting Roonie’s eyes. “He cooled off since we went to Georgia. I just. I think my grandfather would’ve been really disappointed in me.”

“Dick Cruz does not get to decide what you do from beyond the grave, bro,” Roonie says, sort of pitying. “You already stopped playing hockey because you couldn’t play for Wankston. Are you sure you want to go there?”

“I want to stay, but yeah. Yeah, I’m going.”

They look at each other, Cursey a little scared, until Roonie smirks and punches him in the shoulder. “You’re not leaving without that tattoo.” Cursey doesn’t.

It’s a long, restless summer. He spends it lying on the beach across the road from the plantation and going up to Marbella with his stepdad to play golf, watching his tattoo heal, telling himself _you can play_ until he can only hear it in Roonie’s voice.

It’s Kit who gets him to try out for the Wangers, though. It’s watching Kit at practice that makes Cursey want that feeling back, despite what he knows it’ll do to his grades, despite the fact that he doesn’t want to go pro.

When Roonie scores on him, Cursey plays harder. They hug in the line after the game, and when Kit and the team head out to a bar, no one mentions that one of their own hugged the captain of the rival team.

He knows he’s made the right decision. It’s a good year, and when he declines his spot on the roster in the fall, he has no regrets.

 

*

He goes to Andalucía with Kit the summer between sophomore and junior year. He’s still a Spanish citizen, but this is where he learned English; down by the beach, almost everyone is British. His mom’s English has improved a lot since he left for the States. She wants to practice, so they only speak English at dinner.

She doesn’t ask if they want to go to Mass on Sundays.

“It feels like a holiday,” he tells Kit one night. “I haven’t lived here year-round since I was twelve.”

They’re walking up one of the hills so they can watch the sunset from the top. The olive trees smell like something out of a childhood dream, half-remembered fondly, and the air itself tastes different, like the sea and scorched earth.

Kit smiles at him and raises the camera to take a picture. “It also feels like coming home, though, doesn’t it? Europe, I mean. Everything felt familiar when I went to Prague, and I never lived here for more than a few months. Maybe it’s the language.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Cursey says, because he can’t say that his home is a Swiss boarding school he can’t go back to. That his dad’s houses in Atlanta and on Martha’s Vineyard and his mom’s plantation on the Mediterranean coast are equally familiar, or equally unfamiliar. He’s too European in the States and too American in Europe, and his illustrious grandfather’s legacy hangs over his head even now that he’s honoring his memory.

“I’m thinking about changing my name,” he says, and realizes he means it when the words leave his mouth. “When I get my citizenship, I’m changing my name to Lee Cruz.”

“Won’t your parents mind?”

Cursey looks at Kit and thinks, for the hundredth time, _I want to kiss him._ He doesn’t; he needs friends, not a boyfriend. But in this light, between these trees, in the silence and so far from campus, it’s harder to remember that than it should be.

“My mom will, but she probably expects it. Or at least she won’t be surprised. Dad will just be happy I kept his last name, I guess.”

They drink wine on the terrace that night and make plans for golf in Marbella early next morning. There’s only a week left before they head out to Kit’s family’s cabin in Oregon, and it feels like they’re both taking in as much of the solitude as they can.

 

*

 

He doesn’t know what to make of Rinser at first. The kid is obviously talented, but the way he plays with Roonie and Woozy is a little too intense. No line should be that good at college level. And off the ice, it’s -

He’s seen the look on those three’s faces in the mirror. It’s the look of wanting someone you can’t have and settling for being on a team with them, spending all your time with them and Not Thinking About It.

When the end comes, Cursey is caught in the middle.

Roonie texts him and tells him to try out for the Wankston team, and when Cursey asks why, the reply is just Rinser’s name. Cursey knows what happened right away, and he knows what he owes Roonie, so he tries out and buys a bottle of tequila on the way to the dorms. His senior year was supposed to be about school. He wants to be a lecturer, he’s applying for grad school soon, he’s moving off-campus in three months, but he knows by now what his priorities are, and he’s not very high on that list.

He likes Rinser, at least. He likes that he can get through to him, even after a night (a week, then two weeks) of drinking and taking calls from Roonie that drag him out of his room and onto Kit’s couch, face itchy from salt.

It’s just… he wanted to believe it could work. That it’s possible to have a relationship that doesn’t end like this, or a crush that goes away without tearing you up.

He sits on Kit’s couch, and cries, and drinks, and wants to kiss Kit a little more every day for looking out for him so he can look after the kid who’s now their captain.

When the two weeks are up and Rinser finally talks to Roonie and Woozy, Cursey goes to church on Sunday and throws away the empties in his room.

 

*

 

He moves into his new apartment two days after New Year’s. His dad paid for it, called it an investment, but guilt runs in their family, so Cursey knows what it really is: an apology for this Christmas and every Christmas since he was thirteen.

At the end of term, he invites Kit and JB to move in. On twitter, of all places, on a whim, but like his name change, he knows he means it when he says it. He expects it to be great, but he doesn’t expect the bit that comes right before.

He’s on the green with Kit, and Kit’s flubbing all his shots. Not like he’s thinking about something else, but like his hands forgot how to hold a club, and he’s looking at Cursey weirdly.

“What’s up?” Cursey asks, straightening from where he was about to swing and leaning on the club instead. If it’s about the move, about him, he _has_ to know. He doesn’t think he’s been too obvious, but he’s been wrong before.

Kit’s shoulders drop. Cursey’s never seen him look this miserable, so he opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Kit goes, “I like you _so much._ ”

“I’m sorry?”

“So much it’s fucking scary, Curse. I am genuinely scared here, please say something.” The last part is probably because Cursey’s gone a bit numb, mouth slack, club about to slip from his hand.

“I know it’s a lot, okay?” Kit says, now more worried about Cursey than the outcome of what he just said. “Let’s go back to your place. I think we need to talk without my roommates around.”

On the drive back, Cursey keeps his eyes closed. They could be anywhere, Wankston or Spain or Georgia, he’s had this talk with himself in golf carts in all those places: you know what happens when you act on it. You know what happens when it’s out in the open, you’ve seen what this does, you’ve been there for the fallout. Your whole life was shaped by fallouts from this one thing. _Don’t._

They take a taxi from the course, stealing glances at each other across the backseat. When they get to the apartment, Kit lets them in. Kit’s had keys since winter break, just like JB. The place is already as much theirs as it was Cursey’s.

“Whatever happens, we’re friends first,” Kit says before they’ve even sat down. “You know that, right?”

Cursey sinks into the couch, looking at his You Can Play tattoo. Normally he’d ask himself what Roonie would do, but Roonie never actually got to this point. He watches Kit sit down carefully and hates that he’s the kind of person that someone like Kit has to be careful around.

“Why isn’t that enough?”

“It’s amazing. It is. But I can’t do this without you knowing. I can’t live with you and hide this. Isn’t there something here? Am I imagining it?”

Cursey closes his eyes again, goes over all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but the thing is, Kit’s not wrong. He nods, defeated.

“Can’t we see what happens when we’re not pretending that nothing’s happening? We’re grown-ass men. We can figure it out.”

“Do you think it can work?” Cursey asks Kit, because he thinks he’d trust an answer coming from him. “What about JB?”

Kit rubs the back of his neck and smiles a little. “I already talked to her. Look, if this is about the Ice Wall, I know why you’re worried. I kinda… I had a thing in high school, right? A thing where I liked more than one person, and it went to shit. It doesn’t always happen like that, but I know how much it sucks. And I was here when Rinser transferred. You haven’t talked about it much, but I think you’re still messed up about it. Am I wrong?”

“You’re - wait, you’re poly?”

Kit leans back, away from Cursey. “Is that an issue? I guess I should’ve opened with that, but, like. Nerves.”

He looks so worried that Kit wants to kick those high schoolers in the teeth, wherever they are now. “It’s not an issue. I mean, me too, sort of? I took it pretty personally when the Ice Wall broke.”

“Jesus,” Kit says, aghast.

“I really want you to move in,” Cursey says, making up his mind. A leap of faith; he’s good at those, despite everything. Kit’s done nothing but catch him for the past three years. “And I like you. I took you to Europe to meet my _mom,_ man. I was pretty obvious.”

It’s worth it, for the smile on Kit’s face. “One day at a time?”

“One day at a time,” Cursey repeats, and finds himself mirroring the smile, even if he’s fucking terrified. “Call JB and set up a time for the moving truck.”

“So we’re doing this?”

“We really are. What could possibly go wrong, right?”

They look at each other for a full ten seconds before they burst into laughter. It’s a good start, Cursey thinks. If they can keep laughing about it, things might actually turn out alright.


End file.
